Post by sweetlilfighter on Sept 6, 2009 20:40:20 GMT -5
There totally aren't enough Madam fics or drabbles out there, so I'm willing to donate $1 for every Madam (Matt/Adam) fic/drabble you writers can post here, up to $10 because I'm already bidding on some art, and I'm kinda poor.
Here are some ideas:
1. Late night. Deserted loung. Matt playing piano. Adam sits and watches or asks for a lesson.
2. Matts observations on Adam. Can be unrequited, but requited is prefered and more fun
3. Same as #3, only reverse the roles.
4. Matt's bumbling attempt(s) to flirt/hit-on/date Adam.
okay so this is actually a sequel-ish-thing to the last madam drabble i wrote, not one of your prompts, but as you said that our own ideas were fine i'm assuming that that's okay. if not, just tell me and i can write you something off the list instead. :)
Adam turns out to be okay at piano. Not good, exactly, Matt couldn’t claim that, but a damn sight better than he thinks he is. (“Shit, sorry, I’m so bad at this,” he wails, after getting the same note wrong for the third time. He looks genuinely contrite.) It’s kind of bizarre actually, because this Adam, Adam who gets the rave reviews and the crazy adoring fans, and here he is sitting next to Matt complaining about how untalented he is. Matt has the vague sense that this is not supposed to be happening.
It takes him about a week to realise that Adam isn’t nearly as sorted and sure of himself as Matt always assumed that he must be. It isn’t his piano playing in itself which makes Matt reconsider, but how he reacts to his mistakes. Matt would’ve expected Adam to be the kind to say, I’m not giving up, fuck that, I’ll learn this thing, but instead he spends at least five minutes of every lesson – is it right to refer to them as lessons? the word seems too formal, but Matt doesn’t know how else he’d describe them – explaining how Matt should really stop teaching him, because he’s hopeless.
“Okay, let’s try that again,” Matt says. Around Adam he’s found himself becoming a voice of reason: he’s patient, reassuring and sensible. It’s a transformation which he is in turns confused by and proud of.
“Sorry,” Adam mumbles. (Mumbling! Adam! This is what Matt means; a week ago he’d never have expected Adam to mumble.)
“It’s fine,” Matt tells him. “Try it again.”
Adam concentrates on playing the first few chords of House of The Rising Sun, absently humming along. It’s an added benefit of teaching Adam that Matt gets to hear him singing every piece he plays; he doesn’t seem to realise that he’s doing it, or perhaps he’s just confident enough about his voice that it doesn’t matter to him. It’s him singing for himself, not for an audience, which Matt has never heard Adam doing before. It makes it seem more genuine, somehow.
“That sounds much better,” Matt says brightly. Adam beams and then ducks his head, as if he’s embarrassed by the compliment. Matt thinks, hold on, you aren’t supposed to get embarrassed, but has the sense to keep his mouth shut.
“I was thinking,” Adam starts, and then bites his lip and pauses, as if he isn’t sure how to say what’s in his head.
“You were thinking...?” Matt picks up the sheet of paper with the chords on, checking how much more of the song Adam has to learn. It’s quite a lot, but that doesn’t matter. If Matt doesn’t finish teaching Adam the basics of piano before the end of tour, which he almost definitely won’t, they’ve agreed to meet up as regularly as they can to continue the lessons. In a way Matt’s glad that there isn’t enough time for Adam to learn properly on tour; it’s nice to know for sure that they’ll be staying in touch afterwards.
“Yeah,” Adam clarifies, somewhat pointlessly, and then explains, “I was thinking that I’d like you to accompany me when I’m singing, sometime. If you’d be okay with that.”
“If I’d be okay with it? Are you kidding?” Matt laughs. “I take any excuse I get to play, and I love your voice. Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”
“Well,” Adam says, “you might want to save your playing for when it isn’t going to be drowned out by someone else’s vocals. Or you might secretly hate me.”
“Dude, I don’t secretly hate you,” Matt says, because Adam sounds almost serious about it. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
“Well,” Adam admits. “I used to think that you might be mad at me for becoming Kris’s roommate, and getting so close to him. It seemed like you didn’t like me as much as the others after that.”
“Oh.” Matt thinks about it. “No, I didn’t.”
“Well, then,” Adam says.
“I’m over it now, though. Well over it.”
“Yeah, I know.” Adam smiles at him. “It was my sparkling wit, devilish charm, and arresting beauty that did the trick, right?”
“Sure,” Matt says. “So would you want me to be doing this accompanying during lessons, or were you thinking of conjuring up an audience?”
“I was thinking just in private to start off with.”
Matt nods. “Okay. Do you want to try House of the Rising Sun one more time? We have to leave in a few minutes.”
Later, when Matt’s on his own, he looks back on the conversation, and it occurs to him that maybe Adam was right: maybe it was the wit, and the charm, and the beauty. He finds that once the thought’s in his head he can’t shake it away, and feels more than a little panicked about it.
“Oh, shit,” he says out loud.
Last Edit: Sept 8, 2009 14:31:04 GMT -5 by mollying